


The Distraction

by Happyorogeny



Series: The Drow [7]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Gen, alcohol mention, thoughts of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:31:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyorogeny/pseuds/Happyorogeny
Summary: He was going to have to kill him. There was no other solution.





	The Distraction

He was going to have to kill him. There was no other solution. 

Jarlaxle was a distraction. 

Tonight, he decided to himself, nursing a tankard he had surreptitiously emptied onto the sandy floor. Tonight, once this tavern had quieted down enough that there was no one around to raise the alarm. This desert village was far enough removed from drow raids that they seemed to regard Jarlaxle as merely another kind of elf. For his part the thief was having quite the excellent time with such assumptions, assuring the curious crowd that he was, in fact, a son of one of the noble families, a kind of renegade prince. 

It was a good lie, Artemis had to admit. If he hadn’t known better he might have believed it. He had that same voracious hunger that Artemis had only ever seen in nobles and criminals, ever avaricious, wanting every little thing in the world. Power, people, gold. Blood. Revenge. 

Jarlaxle noticed him watching and the one visible eyelid dropped in a lazy wink. He had taken to lining them with shimmering powder, much as Artemis himself used kohl.

Idiot drow. That wouldn’t do anything at all to protect his eyes. But he probably had some brooch or necklace or ring to do as much. And he couldnt deny that it was quite the visual effect, opulent against his inky dark skin, bright as a full moon over the desert. Artemis had thought about how to kill him often. As he did with everyone he met, much the same a tailor mentally dressed all strangers and a musician mentally plucked out a tune on some unknown instrument they spied in a shop window. 

One method would be to seduce him so as to get all his magical armour off. Jarlaxle eyed him warmly often enough and made no effort to hide his interest. And no effort to push it, either, a form of respect that Artemis wasn’t quite used to. He’d had to murder many an overly-determined suitor in the past. But Jarlaxle just preened at him and skipped away as if he expected Artemis would follow. Half the time he thought the drow meant nothing by it at all and merely amused himself. 

Either way, he had dismissed it as a method of murder. He had never much found it useful to play on matters of lust and was not well practiced. Too many people were disinterested in strangers, happily married, or simply not inclined to pursue men. And something about him tended to set them on edge, no matter how he tried to soften it. Something about the eyes, he thought. It was always the eyes. And for all his play-acting the drow was a finely tuned creature. He could sense the mood shifting in the room before even the occupants themselves could. Any kind of uncharacteristic behavior from Artemis at all would set Jarlaxle perfectly, smilingly on edge. 

So. No seduction. But a multi-pronged magical attack ought to be enough to break through his various defenses. And then a physical attack to finish the job. Quick. But noisy and chaotic. Not unlike Jarlaxle himself.

That kind of thing would take time, cost money for explosive runes, involve setting up a trap and luring him into it. Too many ways for it to go wrong. Artemis had always sought the simplest solution to any target. Complexity too often brought failure. 

By the time the food came he had planned out six other methods. 

He knew Jarlaxle’s habits, the escape tactics he favoured. There was probably one more, secret. He would be a fool to reveal all his cards. 

He had considered this for months and had not killed him yet, though he made the decision to do so each morning and each night. Jarlaxle…sat inside his mind in a way he didn’t like. Like a stone in his shoe, sharp and intrusive. 

And yet that distraction was useful. Even if he had been a quiet drow, his sheer unmasked existence drew attention. And he was not quiet. He indeed tended to cause enough of a distraction that Artemis could easily slip away, find work for himself, dispose of a mark and return before the sluggish town guards even started to suspect something was amiss. His endless chatter was...not amusing, but it had become almost a background to Artemis' everyday routine. Sometimes Jarlaxle sang in a rich, low voice and then stopped, looking startled at himself. Artemis rather wished he would sing more. It was less grating than the talk, even if all his songs were sad. 

Artemis had never needed a friend, never wanted one. But Jarlaxle was not a friend. And he was…interesting to watch. The sleight of hand and voice, how he navigated strange people and cultures with ease. For how quickly he made friends of strangers, how quickly he turned problems into profitable ventures. How he could talk to anyone at all. How little he got attached to anyone, how little he cared about anyone at all. 

The look on his face when he had first seen a thunderstorm rolling over the desert. 

That smile. 

In a lot of animals, Artemis knew, the showing of teeth was a threat. A distraction. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t kill him just yet. Jarlaxle had many tricks and he intended to learn them for himself. He couldn’t learn from a corpse. 

And killing him would put that blasted psion in charge of the drow mercenaries. And he had made it very clear he wanted Artemis dead. There were quite enough people in the world who wanted him dead without putting one in charge of a mob of bloodthirsty mercenaries. 

Really, it was entirely a matter of self-interest.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this come find me at HappyOrogeny over on tumblr!


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